This life means so insecure:
You're no way keeping go so pure.
You've lost your virgin self-assure
Of what disease is first to cure
A fish gets rotten from its head
You feel a void in words you've said
You lay the body in your bed
And wake it up the same you've had.
The price for glorious retrieve
Is much more ever one could give
Those tops you're dreaming to achieve
Are nothing more than self deceive.
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